The "R" Word Again

My friend and I had some preschool business to go over so I dropped by her house with the paper work for us to go over.

When I arrived she was on the phone with her mother and she seemed very rattled so I sat in the other room and waited. When she hung up she said that her mom told her that her cousin's wife had been raped and she said it was my friends' husband and another guy. I froze. A thousand thoughts raced through my brain. I had never told her what I had heard about her husband and what I had experienced with my husband. To tell her that would have hurt her terribly and I really had no proof. It was only TALK that could really hurt people. I knew it was fact and I was convinced that both men were guilty of rape but I hadn't shared that with anyone. Now that this other woman had brought it out in the open I absolutely believed every word and then some. I still didn't tell her what I had known for a long time: that was enough for one day. I didn't think she could take in any more on the subject. I knew how I felt when I saw those scratches on my husband and I knew she was just as fragile and unable to comprehend what just happened as I was. Looking at her was like looking at myself in the shattered mirror we both shared. Shards of who we used to be.

There was going to be a meeting between the families that eyeing to sort this whole thing out. She never told me what the outcome of that rape was, and I never asked her. There are some things that are just too hard to talk about.

What amazed me was that my friend and her husband had befriended her cousin's wife and had welcomed her into their home and vice versa. She was from overseas and knew very little English and was not very Americanized at all. Now her husband betrayed the friendship and had taken advantage of someone who trusted him. Not only had he victimized someone quite helpless but he didn't care what happened to his wife. I knew enough to watch my back and lock my doors.

I went home feeling a sense of living in a colony of devils or on the underbelly of the dark planet; a place where you could never see what was coming next. How did I get here? It was so foreboding and ominous. Every time this happened I felt attacked by proxy. A little bit more of my trust was stripped away. I was always on guard or high alert. I waited for the other shoe to drop, telling me that my husband was involved. Although nothing came of it, I would never be convinced that my husband was an innocent bystander in any of these events. In time the wound would scab over and vanish as suddenly as it appeared, but it would long be remembered. It damaged so many lives. The couple moved away and later divorced.

The end of preschool was upon us. It was our last fund raiser; an afternoon silent auction and luncheon. We had planned it for months. Next year would be grade school for us. Kindergarten here we come. As I left for the Auction I had a sense of caution. I was picking up a vibe I didn't like. I had to keep my head on straight so I refused to think about it. I was master of ceremonies today and I intended to enjoy every minute of it and bring in the money for our school. My husband fastened my necklace and I left shrugging off the nagging chill at the back of my neck.

When I came home I saw that "tell" again. He was acting strangely sullen. What had he done this time? He insisted on going to buy a rototiller this weekend, He kept harping on a garden and he was obsessed with this idea. I just knew something was wrong enough for me to keep an eye on him. Nothing was meaningless anymore. The next day we left for a trip to get a rototiller. He had to have a certain one that was way out of the area. It would take us all day. When we pulled up the driveway with our purchase I noticed a fighting cock strutting around in our pasture. What is that, I asked him? He couldn't answer me. The message was clear, he had done something bad, exactly what, I didn't know. So there I was blindfolded without a clue, with only instinct to guide me.  Eventually I would find out, I always did, but right now I had to wait until it was revealed to me.

Risk Rewards and Payoffs

My new neighborhood was a wonderful experience. All the homes had 2-10 acres and so we were not close to each other in space but we were in other ways. I met lots of friends and families, young and retired. I felt complete. We formed a group that took turns buying milk from the dairy for each other. Our children went to soccer and gymnastics with each other. We formed a 4-H group and taught our girls baking and sewing and cooking. Many of the ladies canned their own food and gardened and dehydrated their harvest which they would enter into the State Fair in August. I took mine to other fairs as well. It was very rewarding. We filled each other's lives with friendship and sharing.

The only thing that didn't improve was my marriage. He repeated old behaviors and undesirable attitudes. One of my neighbors gave me a sack full of dahlia bulbs from her garden. I was so excited because they were beautiful varieties. I planted them but they didn't come up. After a few weeks I went out to check them again and nothing. 

I dug into the ground where I had planted them, they had disappeared. I checked the other spot where I had planted them and there was no sign of them. I knew what happened, only because it had happened before at the other house. What was so important to him that he had to sabotage everything I did from cakes to recipes to flowers?

After a series of these problems and years of questioning the repetitions in his conduct whether violent of simply twisted, I would learn about his need for reward. What was important to him was that I should never outshine him no matter if it was something of interest to him or not. He was jealous, what I would consider, insanely jealous. He would come up with an idea that should discredit or confuse me and he would nurture that idea in his head until it became a fantasy and an obsession. The excitement would build inside of him and he would plan how to put it into motion. Just thinking about the action would give him an adrenaline rush. The reward centers of the brain were being stimulated before the actual deed took place. He was in a state of arousal before he stole the article, dug up the bulb or committed the rape or assault. When he acted on his fantasy his brain was flooded with dopamine. The act in itself was the reward. To get my response to the theft or assault would be the ultimate payoff which I had refused to give him. He hadn't achieved the highest high he could attain. Still, he was rewarded all along by the planning and execution of the crime. The dopamine release was the throttle for more and more of these assaults. He had gotten pleasure from them without my response.  And so he would repeat them relentlessly for the dopamine high.

My thinking had been that if I ignored his crimes or paid little or no attention to them they would burn out of their own accord. He would get tired of doing the same thing over and over again with no result. However my response wasn't really necessary in the scheme of things because he was getting his high from the indulging in the whole idea. He enjoyed the risk, the fantasy and making it happen and the dopamine insured that he would do it again. The high was the ultimate. My non-responsive attitude was my saving grace. It held back the possible altercation that these assaults could lead to.